Once More, with Feeling
by RoseLight
Summary: Sequel to Once. Can Margaret and Hawkeye reconcile after his infidelity? Sex, violence, and..banana bread..?


ONCE MORE, WITH FEELING

(a sequel to "ONCE")

Prologue

I did not slam the door on my way out. I didn't have the energy. I just closed it firmly, quietly, and left my entire life behind me. I steered the car (his car) down the drive, and when I reached the street, I didn't know which way to turn. What a silly, grandstanding play. I just knew I couldn't stand there looking at him another minute or my heart would explode, and I refused to let him witness that. (He'd probably just rip open my blouse, start a cardiac massage and save my life, when all I wanted to do was die.)

He didn't even have the grace to lie to me .He could've at least tried to deny the ugly hisses that had been following me around the neighborhood the last few weeks. I would've believed him, in the face of all gossip and evidence, because I wanted to, so much. Because I really had grown to trust him with my heart. Because I couldn't conceive (no pun) of him abandoning me and Lindy for even an hour, even after a hard night's work, even after a drink. Even with Her. Not even once.

I was wrong.

How long had I been wrong, about him, about us? From the beginning? I didn't plan to trap him into marriage. I had come up to visit on a whim that weekend, and got escorted to some local dance. I didn't plan the moonlight.. But once Lindy became a fact of life, I could not.. not- share with him. All I could remember was how thrilled he was once before—and then it wasn't even his child. His total delight with the news had overwhelmed me.

Well, I obviously couldn't hideout in the Cove; the Pierces were known every where in the tiny town. At least one of us wanted to avoid creating gossip, I thought smugly. I couldn't go too far, either. After all, I'd left my child behind in the rush to distance myself from her father. I missed her already. But to take shelter under his roof was simply unbearable right now. Dear God, what a hash I'd made out of our lives. I should've known….

xxxxxxx

Hawkeye was stunned. He heard the car, vaguely aware that it was carrying his wife away. He wandered around the room awhile, aimless. Aimless. That's exactly what his post-war life had become before Margaret and Lindy had given him meaning again. What had happened to them all?

He tried to think, settle on a course of action, but his thoughts were flying in all directions, and none of them were leading Margaret any closer back to him. Lindy, first. He glanced at the clock. He still had some hours left with her safely at school. Ok. Where would Margaret go? He rang her best friend and neighbor, Marjorie Tolliver, three doors down.

"What's up Doc?" she chuckled at her standard greeting for him. Margie's daughter Nancy was Lindy's best-est friend, and the two women had become known around town as "Maggie and Margie, the M & M Moms. ."

"I was just wondering if you'd talked to Margaret lately."

"Not today. Yet. But we do need to coordinate our schedules for the PTA bake sale. Ben, have you misplaced her again?" she teased.

"I was just wondering…if you knew where she might be…."

"She didn't mention any plans to me, but she usually leaves you a note, doesn't she?"

Hawkeye sighed through his teeth and wondered if he should puncture his pride right now and beg to know if his neighbor knew where his wife might hide from him, or to wait a while before he had to confess again. "I guess she was in a hurry. Uh, is it ok if Lindy comes over for a while after school?"

"She's always welcome. Have Margaret call me when she gets home, OK?"

"Sure." He hung up. Next call:

"Dad?"

"Hawkeye, you and Margaret take any more of these 'long lunches' and I'm gonna start charging you for babysitting the clinic," he threatened.

"Dad, I need you to cover my last two appointments today, OK? I need to walk Lindy home from school."

"Margaret gone shopping?"

"Yeah." Sure. Why not?

"Well, considering it's for my precious granddaughter, of course I'll cover for you."

"Thanks." He had almost got off the line when his father began to question Hawkeye's abrupt manner.

"Son, everything all right?"

"Peachy, Dad, just peachy." He really didn't want to get The Lecture over the phone. He wasn't prepared yet.

"Well…" the old doctor was not convinced, but… "well, see you for supper."

"I thought it was your bingo night.?"

"Naw, that's Thursday. Just check with Margaret, she keeps all that straight."

Yeah. She did. He often teased her about the military precision with which she kept the household running smoothly. Rats. Now he would have to face his daughter and his dad both, before he even knew what to do. "Ok. Supper." And he hung up.

Now what? The house was so quiet, he could perceive the birds nesting outside the upstairs window. His heart was thumping so loudly, he was surprised the racket didn't frighten them away.

Maybe he should call Col. Potter. He didn't seriously believe Margaret was capable of driving all the way to Hannibal, but she might 've called the old gentleman for advice or just to confide in. They had always been close, and the colonel himself had warned Hawkeye never to hurt Margaret. Or maybe his next call should be to Sidney. "Dr. Freedman, reserve sometime on your schedule, a couple months, maybe, to help an old army vet who's strayed from his sanity again and thrown his family away…?" Maybe Father Mulcahey was still in the forgiveness business, and could convince Margaret she was stuck with him forever. After all, a vow is a vow is a vow….

He was beginning to panic, and the sight of his hand shaking scared him more. No, he'd have to dig himself out of this mess himself. If only he had a bigger shovel.

xxxxxxxxxx

"Hi, Daddy."

"Hey, Princess."

"Where's Mommy?"

"She had some stuff to do so I'm walking you home today, OK?"

She slid a trusting little hand into his. "OK Daddy." She skipped beside him in the cool sunshine.

"Ah, Lindy, you know how sometimes you fight with a friend and they hurt your feelings and you just stomp off to your room and sulk for a while til you feel better?"

"Yeah…."

"Well, Mommy and I had a fight, and she can't stomp off to her room because it's my room too, and I'm the one she's mad at . So, she's gone somewhere til she feels better."

"Was it your fault, Daddy? " She was puzzled. Her daddy was wonderful. How could Mommy be mad at him?

"Yeah, Sweetheart,"

"Well, then just tell her you're sorry, and we can have spaghetti for supper."

Case closed. "I told her, honey. I just hurt her feelings, real bad. And it might be a while before she wants to be friends again."

"Then who's gonna walk me to school and home again?"

"I will. Or Grampa. Or maybe Nancy's mother."

"Who's gonna bake the cookies—I promised my teacher—"

"We'll see, ok?"

"And who's gonna find me Australia on the map for tomorrow?"

"I think I can do that."

"You sure, Daddy?"

"Never doubt your Daddy, Princess."

" I don't doubt you, 'zactly. It's just, well, Mommy's gooder at maps."

xxxxxxxx

Yes, Margaret was good at maps, even in her current state, putting miles and miles between her and the pain. She escaped to a charming bed and breakfast several hundred miles southeast. Her anger had been driven out over the long ride, and left her with mere exhaustion. The innkeeper welcomed her, made the arrangements, and left her to rest.

She felt so helpless and alone .At the 4077 she'd made the most intense relationships she'd ever sustained. Who could help her now? The colonel, of course, if she had not been too embarrassed to call him. He was so fond of both her and Hawkeye, but had quiet reservations about their long-term involvement. There was Father Mulcahey, but she figured she already knew his position. And Sidney…yes, maybe Sidney Freedman. He had been Hawkeye's therapist back in Korea, and had advised him occasionally since they'd been back in the states. Sidney was a wise man, a mensch, and maybe he could share with her some of Ben's motivations or reasons or un-reasons for destroying their family, for that was how she viewed it now. Destroyed, bombed into rubble no less than the pitiful villages they'd passed in the Korean countryside. Desolate. Collapsed

xxxxxx

Supper was not spaghetti, but silence. Hawkeye shook his head. Dammitt, this was as bad as Margaret 's lack of a scene. Why wouldn't anybody pick a fight with him so he could defend himself? He was getting sick and tired of taking the blame for a simple biological imperative.

Lindy pushed back her chair and began to clear the table "Princess, you go upstairs and read a while. Grampa and I will take turns doing the dishes, since Mommy's gone."

He knew his father would start in as soon as her little feet disappeared from the room. "Are you ready to discuss this yet?" his father asked pointedly.

"There's not room in a marriage for three people."

"Seem like you should've thought of that several weeks ago."

"I didn't want to tell you because I wasn't ready for the lecture."

"So you let a six-year-old explain to me that her mother ran away from home? And is that child is supposed to comprehend that her mother felt so unloved and unwanted in her own home, by her own husband….I sure hope that hour was worth it." The old man could've spat.

"That's not-" and he swallowed the word again, for the second time that day. Fair. Not Fair. His father wasn't Fair. And his wife wasn't Fair. And the war wasn't Fair. And the world wasn't Fair. And Life wasn't Fair. And - if he got any further out into the universe Father Mulcahey would have to be brought in to ameliorate the conversation. Suddenly the bluff and bluster left him deflated as a balloon "Oh, God, Dad-- what I've done." He shook his shaggy head side to side. And Hawkeye Pierce knew, that moment, that he had no one to blame but himself.

xxxxxx

"Please, M'am, may I use the phone ? It's long distance…"

"This place is so far away from anyplace that everyplace is long distance," she chuckled at her own joke.

Margaret dialed, steadying her hand. She'd memorized Freedman's number years ago. "Sidney ? I'm sorry it's late. It's Margaret Houlihan. Pierce."

"Hello, Margaert. How are you? And where are you?" Sidney's comforting voice hummed over the wires reassuringly.

"Here, I mean, near… it's the cutest little B & B--"

"Margaret, I wouldn't be breaking a confidence if I told you Hawkeye called a little while ago,"

"Thank God."

"Does that mean I can let him know where you are and that you are all right?"

"If you heard from Hawkeye then you understand that I am very far from all right."

"Agreed. Can I tell him the Plymouth is safe?"

Margaret had choice, whether to grin at Pierce's effrontery or to be incensed and insulted. To her credit, she gave a twisted smile. "You can tell him - no, never mind, I'll tell him myself."

"You will call him? Tonight?" the psychiatrist pressed.

Margaret felt his insistence and reacted to it. "Yes, Sidney, I pledge to phone him tonight. Or at least Daniel," she amended, with an edge in her voice. "I do regret leaving before I could explain to Daniel." It had been some hours now, and she was having some trouble explaining her extreme reaction even to herself.

"Margaret, I understand that what Hawkeye did was wrong, but--"

"Please!" she snapped. "I should've known you'd take his side"

"I don't mean to take sides, I just-'

"That's all I 'll hear: 'what Hawkeye did was wrong, BUT...' If it had been me, they'd all be saying, 'what Margaret did was wrong, PERIOD."

"You perceive inequality in the way you're being treated...?"

"You bet, Buster."

"Do you want to have an affair, Margaret? Would that make things even, again?"

"No. That's the point," her voice betrayed her "I don't want anyone but Hawkeye," she whispered across the miles. "But apparently he wants anyone...but me"

Sidney tried another track. "You don't want to exaggerate here, or lose perspective. It's bad, it's a symptom, but from what Hawkeye has already told me...well I can't really share all our conversation, of course, but , Margaret, trust me --"

"Ha. I've obviously fallen for that line once too often, Doc-tor Freedman."

"I don't do couples counseling myself, but I can recommend some very good folks in your area."

"And you think that would help?"

"It couldn't hurt.'.

"And you think Hawkeye would agree to that?"

"Margaret, he wants to work this out. He's in no position to refuse, he's been through therapy before and he's seen how valuable it can be."

The reminder of Hawkeye's prior therapy alerted her. "Sidney, he's ok, isn't he? I mean…. you know what I mean."

"I'm not mentioning that to guilt you into coming back before you're ready."

Margaret sighed. "I know you're his friend, Sidney, but you're a professional and I don't believe you would do that, deliberately. But I am still his wife. And until eight hours ago, I still loved him. I care what happens to him, I care how he is..."

"Did you stop loving him eight hours ago?" He sound like a friend, another man, not a doctor.

"That's it. I'm pulling the plug on this long-distance therapy session. Look, Sidney, I'm really glad Hawk called you. I'm glad he's getting help. The weather here is fine-"

"And where would 'here' be?"

She smiled. "Nice try, Doctor. You can tell him I'll check in to say good-night...unless of course I'd be interrupting something. Or someone." There was a long pause while Freedman considered his response.

"Margaret, I think you 're testing me. You expect me to scold you for that remark, to prove whose side I'm on. "

"I thought you weren't taking sides, Sidney."

"Well, right now, I'm on Lindy's side. Hawkeye's drinking, you're running away, and Lindy's baking cookies with her friend. She seems to be the only sensible Pierce in the clan. Do you have any objection if I should happen to be in the neighborhood this weekend?"

"I think you could catch the 6:15 commuter plane from LaGuardia, catch a cab in Boston, and be in Crabapple Cove in time to tuck Lindy into bed. The guest room should be ready...unless he's installed someone in there during my 6 hour absence." It was a stupid thing to say; she could've bitten her tongue, to reveal her pain and insecurity so nakedly to him.

"Margaret..." his was a long, sad sigh that implied there would be a lot of work involved once she returned.

"It was a crummy thing to say, I know. But I can't apologize for being hurt. Wait, Sidney," Margaret had nearly hung up, had nearly missed the clue the psychiatrist had tried to slip her. "He's drinking?"

Was that a Freudian slip, or had he deliberately meant to shake up the woman who meant so much to his good friend. " If he is, Margaret, it's his choice, remember, you are not responsible for his poor choices."

"You didn't say 'if'--you said he was drinking," she accused.

"Would you be surprised if he were?" Sidney resorted to the old shrink trick of answering a question with a question.

"You mean, 'under the circumstances'? No, I suppose I shouldn't be. But neither should anyone be surprised I needed to get away and clear my head. It's not everyday my husband tells me--" she couldn't go on. To say the words out loud would lend them more truth, more power to hurt her.

"Tells you he's sorry? that he loves you and Lindy more than life, that he's ashamed and repentant and in hell because he knows it's his responsibility, his fault that he hurt you, and that he's terrified he's shattered your trust beyond repair?"

"Yeah. That."

"Well...?

"Well...stop ganging up on me, Doctor. I told you I'd call tonight. When "I" make a promise, I keep it." She could not resist another little dig.

"Y'know, Margaret, it may feel good temporarily to get in these little potshots, but once you two start counseling, things like that can retard the healing process..."

"Appreciate the advice, Sid. Good night," she said firmly, replacing the phone in its cradle. She turned around to find the innkeeper over her shoulder.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxx

The old woman shrugged. "It's the off-season. I get lonely, " she said, to explain her eavesdropping.

Margaret could've gotten angry at the snoopy old witch. Instead, she gave a half-laugh. "Oh, what the hell. Of course that's why I've turned up at a charming, romantic little bed and breakfast alone. Because my husband would rather be in a supply closet with someone else." She didn't want an audience if she was going to cry again, which seemed likely. Every time she tried to be strong and bitter, she dissolved into frightened and hurt.

She tried to run away and head up the stairs to her room. The elderly innkeeper, surprisingly spry, blocked her path, and Margaret was no longer angry enough to shove her out of the way and plow her down. Unlike a good Houlihan, she surrendered, and slumped against the wall.

"Come have some tea by the fire," invited her hostess.

She rubbed the tears from her eyes with a fist and allowed the little woman to lead her into the Victorian parlor. "It is lovely," Margaret remarked, feeling she ought to say something constructive, and mean it. "M'am, you practically know my life story. I can't go on calling you M'am or kindly old innkeeper or gracious hostess. What is your name?"

"I'm Betsey McGillicuddy. The house has been in my family for generations, and when it was finally all mine, it was a tad lonesome. So I've opened it up to lodgers, and it's worked out well. I enjoy company, but without long-term entanglements; a little motivation to keep the place up; a little money to keep it up with."

"Sounds wonderful..."

"Your conversation doesn't, " she replied. "Dear, I can afford to be blunt, because we're strangers, and likely to remain so. But I'm concerned for you. Anyone would be, hearing what I've heard."

"I'm sorry," Margaret became more courteous with the old woman, having been brought up to respect her elders. "I'm a private person. I'm not very comfortable at sharing my feelings." That was an understatement, she thought to herself, but she felt pressured to be at least civil to the old...to Mrs. McGillicuddy...while she was under her roof. It would probably just be for tonight, anyway. "I'd rather not talk about it."

But Mrs. McGillicuddy, besides being lonely, was a born adviser. "I'm not a gossip," she declared firmly. "And who would I gossip to, anyway..Samantha?" she tossed her eyes over her shoulder to the gray cat, napping by the fire. "No, I'm more of a...confidante. I listen with two ears, and one heart, and if I deign to give you any advice, you'd be wise to pay attention."

Margaret couldn't help but smile at the little old lady who insisted on getting involved. Why not? It couldn't make her feel any more used than she already did, and it might be good practice for when she would have to reveal her side to Sidney, or whatever uninvolved, clinical stranger they would probably have to seek out to share their intimate problems.

"My husband--" she began.

"Name?"

Margaret fixed her with a Major look; the old lady was not intimidated. Mrs. McGillicuddy was kibitzing already.

"Hawk..Ben. Ben. Anyway, about.."she glanced at her watch," ten hours ago he told me..."

"Where did you meet?"

"Korea. He told me.."

"What were you doin' runnin' off clear over there? Didn't your parents object to their girl…. Is he a foreigner?" she asked suspiciously.

"No, it was the war. He was drafted, a surgeon. A very gifted surgeon. And I was the head nurse of this woefully under- prepared little mobile surgical hospital. We saved lots of lives, saw lots of action together..." she paused to give her 'confidante' space to ask another question. "After the war, he went back to the little home town he'd talked all our ears off about, and I was assigned to a VA hospital in Chicago. War...well, it changes things, changes people. We were both alone, I guess we'd both been having vague problems adjusting to the real world, so when he called out of the blue and invited me to visit...well...and it was so wonderful to see him again, I just- " tears were welling now, "and then that damn Harvest dance. That's what started all this. The good part, I mean" she amended. "Did I show you my-our daughter's picture?"

"What's her name?"

"Lindy. Lindy Hoppe. It's sort of a joke, because-" Margaret blushed. "Never mind. Anyway, today he called and said he wanted to come home for lunch that he needed to talk to me. Well, I wanted to talk to him, too. I wanted it to be a surprise and I thought my doctor had spilled the beans and he was going to come home, with roses and champagne to celebrate - well, it doesn't matter now. Oh, God what a mess...I have such lousy timing with this stuff..."

"And what was your surprise?" she asked gently, anticipating the answer.

"I'm..I'm expecting again. You see, a few years ago, I had a miscarriage. I always felt kinda cheated, and like I'd let him down. He was so sweet, so understanding, but...he's a great father and he adores Lindy and I thought he would be so happy and then he tells me -" she was running out of air and the room was shrinking, she gulped.

" And what was his surprise?." Mrs. McGillicuddy had anticipated this answer, too. "There's someone else?"

"Yes. No. Not exactly. At least, he said it was just once, but if he lied to me about that, why wouldn't he lie about how often, how long, how many..."

"He lied to you about it?"

"Don't you see? Every time he came home at night," she insisted grimly."Every time he kissed me, it was a lie. Every time he held me and told me he loved me. Every time he said thank you for the meat loaf. He was lying all the time. And I never saw it, never imagined...how stupid was that? How blind? My fault, for not knowing, not expecting.."

"But you are expecting, now," she was reminded.

"Yes." Margaret clutched her arms around her middle. "And I know what everybody will want me to do, expect me to do. I just don't know if I can do it."

"And what do you want?"

"I want to turn back time for 12 hours and pretend this never happened.," she finally sobbed.

"It's been a long day, Dearie," soothed Mrs. McGllicuddy. "Let me tuck you in, no extra charge."

"No, " Margaret protested, 'No, I need to call home. I promised Sidney - "

"I can phone and tell them you're safe. Shall I tell them where you are?"

"No, not yet. Or they'll come tearing down here, him and his father and maybe our favorite psychiatrist and my best friend, and half the town will want to witness our reunion so they can tell the other half of the town about it. I'm just not ready yet. "

"Hmmm...does sound like a crowd to deal with. Fine, I'll just send regards. Is that general enough for you?"

"And love to Lindy?"

"Of course." Her hostess smoothed out the blanket and fluffed Margaret's pillow. She sank into a sea of the soft comforter. It was soo lovely, to have someone taking care of her for a change.

"I could get spoiled, Mrs. M," she murmured.

"Good night, Margaret. Sweet dreams."

xxxxxxxx

The innkeeper dialed the number to the Pierce home that Margaret had provided. The phone only rang once before it was snapped up and a frantic man's voice called over the line. "Margaret? Baby, honey, don't hang up, please. Please, just..just stay connected will you? Where are you? Are you OK?"

An unfamiliar voice introduced herself. "Dr. Pierce, this is Betsy McGillicuddy. I own a small bed and breakfast cottage, never mind where, but, I'm calling for Margaret."

"Mrs. McGillicuddy, is it? I'm sorry, I don't know who you are or why you're calling for my wife. Is Margaret ok, is she hurt? where are you?"

"Doctor, she is hurt, but not the way you mean. I insisted she go to bed and rest; she's had a difficult day and a long drive. She asked me to call your family and let you know she's all right, she just needed some time alone, to think. She sends her love to Lindy, of course. And regards to you."

"Regards?" that was a pretty cold, bland word considering what they meant to each other. But no more than he deserved, he guessed. "Sure. Regards. Swell," he muttered under his breath.

"May I please speak to Dr. Daniel Pierce?"

" My father? Why?" his tone had altered from frantic to suspicious.

Betsey hmfed. "I'm sure I don't know," she replied," but Margaret has a message for him."

"Fine." There was a fumbling, an exchange of the receiver, then the elder Doctor Pierce joined the conversation.

"This is Dan Pierce." It was an announcement, not a greeting.

"Doctor Pierce, I have a message for you from Margaret. She's very sorry she couldn't see you, didn't have a chance to explain-"

"Please..." his voice was mellower than his son's frantic tone. "Please take good care of Margaret. Tell her we, all of us, love her and miss her and want her home. She's..very special, to all of us. She's loved, and needed. Please tell her that."

"And how is the little girl?"

The woman, this stranger on a phone wire, seemed to know it all. "Lindy's gone to bed. We told her Mommy was on a visit, and would be back soon. Margaret won't make a liar of me, will she, M'am?"

"She hasn't confided her plans to me: I'm not even sure she's made any. But I don't believe she can stay away very long. Yours seems to be the only home she's ever truly known. That's why it hurt so much to leave. And, why it's so important that she go back"

"I agree. I understand, " he struggled with his concern." Perhaps if I came up, myself...? We could talk..."

"I'm sure there'll be plenty of talking in time, but now she needs some peace. I've not known your daughter-in-law very long, but I hope your son is not a cad."

It was very unsettling, talking so candidly to a stranger. "He may be a fool sometimes, Mrs.-"

"Betsy," she filled in.

"- but he loves his wife," and this was harder to admit," I'm glad she has found you to confide in. Usually, Margaret represses everything til she explodes."

"I get that impression, too, Doctor. You must have a lively household, " she observed.

He chuckled, for the first time in hours. "Well, yes, we're a pretty intense, passionate lot."

"What's she saying, Dad?" Hawkeye hissed impatiently.

"I think we can adjourn for now. It was nice, chatting with you. I feel more hopeful for Margaret now."

"Thank you, Betsy. Me, too, after speaking with you. Have a good night." He replaced the phone, resting his hand thoughtfully on the receiver.

Xxxxxx

Bleary-eyed Benjamin Franklin Pierce haunted the small hospital corridors, seeking his patients to make rounds. He was always thankful when he did not have to make the trip to the hospital that serviced the four surrounding communities, including his home, Crabapple Cove. That meant his neighbors were healthy enough not to need specialized care at the hospital. New Englanders were a generally a hardy lot who didn't hold with much fuss and preferred home care. But today he had several patients to visit, though thankfully, no surgeries scheduled. The way he felt today, he didn't need the pressure. Historically he could always suck it up and perform under stress, but why take the risk if not necessary.

Last night's mysterious phone call from Betsy McGillicuddy had answered some questions, and posed others. Why would Margaret not speak to him herself? Well, he sort of knew the answer to that, or at least could guess. But where she was, and when she would be back, and what he could do to repair the shards of their relationship...all those remained to diffuse his medical concentration.

Well, that, and the drinking he had done the previous day into evening. It had been a good while since he'd indulged his old habit, and his body was older, too, and was not handling the assault well. He just wanted to sneak into the hospital, drop in on patients, and sneak out again to brood at home. But wouldn't ya know, headed right toward him was George Peabody, good physician, decent guy. The sight of his bloodied scrubs made Hawk's breakfast of dry toast threaten to rebel against his stomach.

"Boy for the O'Learys!" he called out, jolly and waving Hawk down. Damn. Hawk had really hoped to avoid anyone and any questions about, well, anything. But George was always cheerful after a safe delivery, and enjoyed sharing good news. As he got closer, his eyes narrowed. "Wow, Ben, you're looking rough. Long night?"

Hawkeye mumbled, head down, and tried to squeeze past him in the hallway.

"How's Margaret?" Yep, that was the sixty-four thousand dollar question. George was her GYN and naturally, her name would come up.

"Ah, fine, fine. She went to visit a friend for a few days..." he elaborated, only to forestall George planning a night of canasta with the Pierces and his wife Dottie.

"Oh? Well, I guess if she's feeling all right...I did caution her to take it easy, after last time. But don't you fret, Ben," he patted Pierce's shoulder," a healthy boy this time around, right?"

"Yeah, right..." Hawk was too weary, too worried, to grasp the import of the OB/GYN's implication.

George ducked into the doctors' lounge to change, and left Hawkeye still standing in the hall, his frazzled brain vaguely aware that he'd missed... something...

xxxxxxx

Sidney Freedman arrived at the Pierce house around 10 that morning for coffee. He did not heed Margaret's notion of flying in the previous night; he did not want to add to the sense of emotional emergency by rushing over. Better to let things calm down before he made an appearance. From a long-distance diagnosis, Hawkeye and Margaret had both panicked from the confrontation, and serious as it was, had charged off in different directions. Now that the initial shock had settled for both of them, he might be of some help.

Daniel Pierce was presiding over the percolator, and Sidney was settled in the sunny kitchen window seat. "So, what do you think, Daniel?"

The old man snorted. "Besides the fact that my son is an ass and his wife is a run-away, you mean?"

"I mean, these two people we care about are facing a very human, very painful situation, and what's your take on the best way to help guide them through it?"

"Sounds better when you say it."

Daniel poured the psychiatrist another cup of surprisingly good coffee. When Freedman remarked on it, the old doctor replied, "Had to learn. No choice. Marian left us when Hawkeye was barely 10. See? That's what I don't get, Sidney. They have a choice. Marian certainly didn't want to die and leave us to fend for ourselves; and I'd have changed places with her if I could. But we had no choice in the matter. These young folks, they're throwing away everything that's valuable in life!...Sorry. Old men tend to run on." He dunked his doughnut ferociously and some coffee splashed over the side of the earthenware mug and puddled onto the pine table.

"No, I agree with you. You've had a ringside seat to watch how these two have performed together for years, how they've mended broken places in each other ,created something special and precious. You'll have insights that can help."

He sighed. "We gotta help, Sidney. But they gotta want the help. Isn't that what you head doctors always declare?"

"True. But these two people, miserable as they may be right now, know in their hearts that they will be much more miserable apart. And there's Lindy. And that means, eventual reconciliation."

"I surely hope so, Doctor."

xxxxxxxxxx

It had been a long week. Margaret woke up in the strange room, marveled at the cloudy softness enveloping her in the plush comforter, the luxury of having an entire bed to herself, and waking to the sun spilling in the window and the birds' trill, instead of the harsh insistent alarm clock that she always wanted to slap down. For several long, indulgent minutes she simply stretched, and billowed in the blankets, and breathed slowly, in the decidedly unfamiliar notion that nothing needed her personal, immediate attention. This time was hers.

Her breathing was slow and steady, her body uncurling in smooth, undulating rhythms instead of the daily hurky-jerky flinging herself over the side of the bed to pull the household together for another routine day. She was safe, and quiet, and alone. She dallied in bed, not wanting the precious freedom to end.

She thought of Hawkeye and for the first time in days, she could breathe without that gripping tightness in her chest. She allowed her memories to wander for a few minutes, and was relieved, grateful even, that her hands did not shake, or curl into fists. She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and knew what she had to do. The first step toward any kind of future. There was Lindy to consider, of course, and that secret little life within her that she'd begun to think of fancifully as Tiny Tuttle (he was unseen, but causing major mischief).

Margaret met the innkeeper downstairs. The dear lady had tea and hot buns set in front of the fire. Margaret smiled gratefully. Betsey (for so she had become, graduating from Hostess to Mrs. McGillicuddy to friend Betsey in remarkably short time) was like a guardian angel: she could interpret Margaret's moods, knew when to speak, and when to resist; when to provide the comforts of tea and sympathy, and when to question Margaret's motives and assumptions. She seemed to have endless availability when Margaret needed an ear to listen and an honest evaluation.

"You have your pride, and your profession," she granted Margaret her aggressive stance last night. " With that, and your gumption, of course you can face the world and make a life. But will that be enough? The cold satisfaction that you don't need him? " The concepts of need and want pulled at Margaret the rest of the evening, like taffy. Patiently pulled then twined together, the glossy strands combined into a sweet treat. Yanked, or stretched too thin, it snapped into nothing.

"Don't you adore November?" Betsey sighed. "It's just such a cozy month And it accommodates everything: a frenzy of housecleaning, and late morning daydreams ; a new novel in front of the fire, and a scrunching stroll through the leaves…"

"Betsey, can you recommend some little shop in town? I need to pick up something for Lindy. Mommy can't go home empty- handed, you know."

Betsey patted her hand happily. "You bet, Little Mother. I know just the place, a sweet little second-hand store. We can hit it right after you eat another biscuit. And a piece of fruit wouldn't hurt you, either, " she fussed. "I'm glad you've come to a decision, Margaret."

"First of many, I suppose," she said thoughtfully, between bites. "But our future has to start somewhere, sometime. And the first step is to go home." Her voice quavered a little. " Scary," she admitted.

"It's still Home. And since when has a Houlihan ever lacked courage?" Betsey teased. "Drink up that milk, I put it out especially for you, and we'll trot."

xxxxxx

Margaret called the office, but both doctors were engaged and she spoke to Lillian, the faithful nurse and office manager. "Margaret, how nice to hear from you," she greeted pleasantly. "Are you having a nice visit?"

"It's been good but I..I'm homesick," she explained with a little manufactured laugh. She had a speech all prepared for Hawkeye but speaking to Lillian threw her off plan.

"Would you like to hold? Or I could take a message."

"Um...just tell Dr. Pierce...both of them, I guess...that I'll be home tonight. For supper. That's all, I guess. Thanks, Lillian."

"Drive back safely," she advised from habit.

Hawkeye emerged from an examining room with a balloon bigger than the child he accompanied. "Hetty is a very brave girl and has had all her shots updated," he told the child's anxious mother. He steered the couple to the Lillian's window to complete the paperwork.

"Doctor," Lillian caught his attention. (In fifteen years of working with the Pierces, she never called him Hawkeye in public. She preferred to maintain an air of professionalism in the office, which of course he undermined at every opportunity.)

"Mrs. Pierce just called." He nearly lunged for the phone. "She didn't hold , just said to tell you and Dr. Pierce -"

"Damn, I missed her. Did you get her number? did she say - "

" - that she'd be home for supper. She's had a nice visit, but she's 'homesick' --isn't that cute? I reckon she needs her "heart" specialist to cure that, eh?"

"Home for supper...tonight?"

"Rumor is you make a yummy veal marsala...Hetty was your last appointment today. I bet if you left right now -"

"See you tomorrow, Doll Face," he grinned on his way out the door, still wearing his whites.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Her courageous determination to speak with him had dribbled away as she stammered with Lillian, and so their first contact would be in person, just two hours down the road. With tremendous discipline, she kept her grip on the steering wheel, and her eyes straight ahead on the road. The radio was tuned to a light popular station she could sing along to without much concentration, and every so often, she would rehearse a speech that changed with the street signs. "I'm Home and Variations," she titled it.

She tried not to imagine it. Would they all have gathered there to greet her, to welcome her home? Or would Discrete Daniel take Lindy out for an early pizza in hopes to ease the tension of her return. Hey, I am not the Prodigal, here! She snapped to herself, then abruptly halted. No. She refused to respond in anger. There had been enough of that. That was not the reason she was going home

Betsey was right: November held everything in its promise. Harvest, and ripeness, preparation for holidays, sharing as well as solitary moments, the chill that encouraged cuddling, sweet memories past, as well as plans for the future. November, work your magic, she prayed

xxxxxxxxx

Meanwhile, in Crabapple Cove, Hawkeye was spinning in circles. Margaret was coming home. She was coming back to him. Or was that too optimistic an assumption? He turned Lillian's words over and over in his head. If only he'd had a chance to talk to her, to hear her tone, her inflection, her precise words...! But Margaret was coming home, and everything had to be perfect, because Margaret was coming home.

While her return was welcome, it had also been abruptly announced. Why now? What circumstance had compelled her to return? What kind of decisions had she made? What kind of a scene awaited the two of them tonight?

The two of them...maybe he should have Dad take Lindy out for supper and give the couple some awkward breathing space first. Or maybe it would be less awkward with other folks around to talk to. Maybe neither of them was looking forward to this very personal reunion, and would appreciate the distraction of others. Somehow, Hawkeye feared that a quick tumble into his arms was not Margaret's realistic game plan .

The veal marsala was the one good dish he could cook; but somehow he knew that, needing it to be perfect, this would turn into a nightmare of searing, burning meat and smoke and blackened pans. Best to be simple. He had frozen some of his father's lamb stew from last week, it was hearty and flavorful, and he could at least pick up some fresh biscuits at that bakery she liked on the way home. And maybe a few flowers for the table. But no candles...too pushy. Not yet.

He threw off his whites and showered, and shaved (which he hated) for the second time that day, and found some slacks on the floor that were not too rumpled, and pulled out of the closet that cable sweater with the too-long sleeves that she had knitted him last Christmas. Any sacrifice, he muttered. Then he glanced around the room. He swept up all the abandoned clothes in his arms and deposited them in the hamper. Just in case, he muttered again, and made their bed up for the first time in her week's absence. And, just in case, he made a preemptory sweep of the guest room, which was tidy enough after Sidney's return to New York.

His father had Lindy, who had not yet been told that her mother would be home tonight. Daniel had headed her off after school to whisk her off for a Grampa Special :A light supper and a movie, giving Hawkeye and Margaret the privacy they needed. Fortunately, he thought, they were both medical professionals, in case the reunion got messy.

Lost in chaotic thought, Hawkeye never heard the car drive up. While the rust bucket he had been driving could be heard and identified from several streets away, his Plymouth that he had insisted Margaret take, was quiet as a mouse, a smooth, sleek, well-tuned machine. He just looked up and suddenly she appeared before his eyes. He stopped breathing for a moment, and his sharpened ears were sensitive to the fact that she was holding her breath, too.

For that moment, neither of them moved. They simply stood and stared at each other, each poised for flight like fragile birds, in case the other would turn away and the rejection crush them immeasurably. Then simultaneously they crossed the six feet of space between then, coming together, gathering each other up in a gentle, hesitant tangle of bodies.. Margaret gave one soft, involuntary sob and Hawkeye whispered "hush" in her ear. The embrace was not passionate. It was the warm and longing, cradling, comforting hug of two people who had once been in a terrible accident together, and had survived.

Each of them had prepared opening statements, rehearsed the scripts in their minds, but when it came to first words, all of their pretty speeches disappeared from their heads and tongues.

Finally it was Margaret who began, with the long-awaited words Hawkeye had yearned to hear. "You couldn't've screwed somebody out of town?"

It startled him so he nearly yelped a scandalized laugh. "Margaret!"

"Houlihan. Pierce." She added firmly, and stepped back to create some space between them.

"I'm an idiot. Can you love an idiot?"

"It's too late," she said, and his heart took a sickening thump. "I'm afraid I already do," she admitted softly.

"Don't be afraid," he whispered. "Not ever again. Oh, God, Margaret..." and the words rushed out in a torrent of pain and guilt until he could no longer meet her eyes. He was hunched over and worn and wretched.

The sight jarred her. Hawkeye, brash, self-confident, proud, could be crushed by a single word dropped from her now, a single gesture. The power was frightening to contemplate. Suddenly visions of him, with Her, flooded Margaret's mind: him holding Her, stroking Her, Her smiling, slyly stealing the affection, the little nips, the low throaty growl that belonged between Margaret and Hawkeye alone. Then she opened her eyes saw him in front of her; his waterfall of words had run dry. He was silent and still, awaiting her verdict. This was their reality. Her imagination was the enemy to their reconciliation.

And the anger and bitterness and fear that had consumed her burned out in the face of compassion for the fallen one. She had loved this man: fought with him, served with him, slept with him. How could she not be moved to close the space between them, slide over on the couch and open her arms, her turn to whisper 'hush' in his ear now. Her turn to be the confident one. As each surrendered their pain, their bond mended again like a bone that, once broken, grows back stronger than before.

"I mean it," she insisted later. "How can I meet Her, in the grocery, on the street? Knowing..."

"With your head up high," he counseled. "You are Mrs. Benjamin Franklin Pierce. Of all the women in the world, you are my wife; even when there was a choice to be made, YOU are the one I choose to spend my life with. She'll have to back off when she sees we're together." He was trying to reassure himself as well. She had made several overtures to him since their ill-fated rendezvous, and had become bolder when She learned that Margaret had left him. Now, with her return, Hawkeye hoped everything would return to normal.

Then he noticed her tote bag and overnight case on the floor."I..uh...tidied the guest room. The other room, too. Uh...where do you want me to put your suitcase?"

"Bedroom's fine, I guess. Thanks. "

He let out a relieved breath. At least she was willing to stay under the same roof. "And where do you want me to put my suitcase?" he asked delicately.

"You packed?"

He shrugged. "I was a Boy Scout. You know, always prepared..."

"I don't believe you were ever a Boy Scout," she shook her head. " But I think our luggage can co-exist in the same closet."

Thank you, God.

"Missed you, Maggs."

"Missed you, Ben."

"So sorry."

"Me too. Sign the peace treaty?" She lifted her lips to him.

"What are your terms?"

"I'm thinking…unconditional surrender."

"Me, or you?"

xxxxxxxxxxx

Daniel and a sleepy Lindy arrived home a few hours later. Hawk met them at the door, his eyes shining the way they had not seen him in a week. " Thanks, Dad," he murmured to the older man. "Hey, Princess, I got a surprise for you..." he teased, and he heralded her into the front room.

"Mommy!" Lindy squealed and leapt into her mother's open arms.

"Oh Sweetheart, I have missed you soooo much!" Margaret clutched her daughter.

"Mommy, you're squeezing the stuffing out of me!" Lindy declared, and giggled. "Missed you too, Mommy. You not mad at Daddy any more?" she asked beseechingly.

The question and the emotion behind it caught Margaret off balance. The two men were hovering, also waiting on her response. "Well, Sweetie, I am so happy to be home, I do not even want to think about being mad right now. Why don't you come upstairs and you can have some of my special orchid bubbles and tell me about everything that has happened all week." That was all the encouragement Lindy needed. She bounded up to the bathroom, dropping articles of clothing along her path. Margaret followed more slowly, picking up after her exuberant child.

"Well?" Daniel demanded, as he and his son turned into the kitchen and Hawkeye started some cocoa.

"Well, she's back under our roof again," he said cautiously. "I'm trying hard not to...well, expect too much, too soon. But she's willing to give us another chance, Dad." Hawkeye ran his fingers through his hair, shook his head in disbelief, " God, so close to exploding everything. I don't even know why - some mad, crazy -"

"But you are going to be back together? That's the main thing. If you can both get past this, this aberration- It was an aberration, right, Hawk?" The old man searched his son's face. Hawkeye had led a reckless youth, and just when his life seemed to be heading in a sound direction, the war had snapped him up and twisted something in him.

Hawkeye could look his father straight in the eye on this one. "Yes. Yes, Dad, absolutely. Besides, if it was a habit, Margaret would have brought out her whip long before now." He grinned at his bewildered parent. "uh...a family heirloom, she assured me."

"Oh. Of course, I see." Although of course he did not, but he figured it was just another jest. " That cocoa ready yet?"

xxxxxxxx

In her pink and green bedroom, Lindy Hoppe Pierce twirled in front of the mirror. She was a princess; her Daddy said so. And her mommy was home. And there was the promise of spaghetti for supper and who knows?- maybe a puppy if things continued to go right.

"Hey, Lindy," her mother's voice was subdued since she came home. Not mad- quiet, like when her mouth went into a straight line and her words came out clipped and sharp. No, this was a nice-quiet, a safe, soothing tone like a lullabye in the dark. "I saw this on my visit and it made me think of you." Margaret handed her the package, all especially gift wrapped with bows and sparkles. "It's a grown-up lady's gift, but I thought you'd like it now."

Lindy loved being thought of as "grown up," yet she ripped the paper off like the child she was. "Mommy!"

"It's a music box. You lift the lid, and wind the switch, and the little prince and princess inside dance to the music." She demonstrated to her daughter's enchanted eyes, and was rewarded with a hug.

"Mommy, am I a princess? Daddy says I'm a princess. Can I marry a prince when I grow up?"

Oh, sure sweetheart, and I hope to god he is honest and true and loyal and doesn't leave you for a few hour's fling with a - -God, she had to stop this! Stop. Now. These poisonous words would condemn any hope of -

"Did you bring something for Grampa, too? And Daddy?" She was seeking reassurance, and certainly you could not still be mad at somebody if you brought them a present…

"Yes, do you want to give this to Grampa now?" Margaret handed her another package, wrapped more conservatively, and Lindy skipped down the stairs.

"What are my ladies up to so early in the morning?" Hawkeye asked, hearing the commotion and stopping outside his daughter's door.

"Oh, just some keepsakes, a couple souvenirs of my trip," she replied nervously. She felt uneasy referring to their recent time apart. She really did not want to talk about it at all. She wanted to pretend it never happened , but she just didn't know how to do that.

"What did ya bring me, what did ya bring me?" he bounced and clapped boyishly and made a grab for her and searched her with practiced hands.

She drew back and eluded him, and the lighthearted moment had vanished "It's over here," she said, not looking at him, not catching the disappointed cast of his eyes. "It's just a silly little thing, really. I don't know whatever possessed me--"

"Margaret, it's the thought that counts, honest." He unwrapped the box carefully, as he had wanted to unwrap her. "Oh, boy, it's a - what is it, exactly?"

"It's a very fashionable second -hand hat, with a very theatrical history. .Tres chic. For the next time you're--I mean, we're--out on the town. Together, I mean. "

"Baby... " and he put an experimental arm across her shoulders," we need to stop monitoring each other's every word," he said seriously. "We can't keep looking for hidden meanings. It'll drive us crazy. Take it from an expert," he added sadly.

"I know, it's just.. hard. It'll get better," she gave him a tight, uncertain smile.

"I love you, Margaret Houlihan Pierce," he repeated softly. He took his hands away and stepped back. "And now, I am off to model this fetching new chapeau," he set the velvet top hat at a jaunty angle and twirled in his daughter's mirror. "Now, that's what I call fashionable. I'll never appear at the breakfast table again with out it." He preceded her down the stairs, and made a sweeping bow to the glee of his daughter, who was munching her Cherrios

xxxxxxxxx

"Marry me, Margaret," she remembered Hawkeye had offered. "I'm a real bargain. You get me -a slightly used star surgeon, and as an extra bonus, a father, already broken in, and a brand new baby. Three for the price of one." Four, Margaret thought gratefully. Her best friend, Marjorie, had come with the package.

Marjorie had grown up in the Cove, married halfway through college to a burly construction worker, and he, like Margaret, had been a newcomer to the small town,. so the couple had been especially sensitive to Margaret's apprehension about fitting in the tightly knitted community.

Marjorie was bright, energetic, and warm, always working on a project, and she pulled Margaret merrily along with her. She was Margaret's introduction to the local social life "such as it is," she'd sigh dramatically, and then laugh. Cove folks, she had confided to Margaret, were intensely loyal to their little piece of earth and never admitted there could be any place better than this.

But Marjorie had been out in the world, attended a sophisticated college, and yet never questioned returning to her roots. Like Hawkeye. Margaret wondered sometimes if there were something in the water, for surely Crabapple Cove was interchangeable with hundreds of insular communities across America. Of course, she was seeing the place through the eyes of an army brat who had grown up moving across the country. She wondered if her restless heart could find a home here.

This morning, Margaret carried over the little teapot she had found for her friend while she was away. "I'm sure you were 'on call' for my family all the time I was gone, for all those little Mommy touches."

"Maggs, it's fabulous!" she declared. "I love it. Let's try it out right now," she was already adding the water. That was Margie. Open, enthusiastic. Margaret's polar opposite, and her dear friend. "We are so glad to have you home." She gave her friend a long, unusually serious look, and emphasized her last word. Home, where you belong, her eyes said. "Hawk was wandering around lost. It was comical. I don't think he shaved once. That was the signal - when we saw him without his whiskers, we knew you were coming back. Oh, Maggs," she hugged her friend impulsively.

Margaret had debated over sharing her burden with her friend. She was confident in Margie's friendship, yet...it had been easier to share with a stranger. Betsy McGillicuddy had been right about that. No ties, no past history, no having to live with the consequences of everything you repeated. It was not gossip Margaret feared from her friend; it was that sharing would make the easy companionship between the couples strained and awkward. Even while Margaret yearned for a sympathetic ear, she hesitated. Then the character of Margie's hug changed, slightly, from welcoming to comforting, supportive. And Margaret understood that her friend knew, somehow, without her sordid confession of details, knew and understood her crisis, and was ready to encourage her through it.

"Come on, we're going to spend the morning at the House O' Curls and present our men with a pair of gorgeous dancing partners they can not resist."

It was Friday, and the little corner beauty shop was filled with neighbors. Margie tossed cheerful waves to acquaintances, then she froze. Lounging on the couch, flipping aimlessly through an outdated magazine, was Ursula Underwood.

She pushed Margaret to the reception desk and hoped her friend had not noticed her rival coiled in the corner. "Hey, Sallie Mae," Margie called in an unusually loud voice. ".Give my friend here the works. She's been out of town visiting, but she's back now, and her husband is so delighted he's taking her dancing tonight."

Marjorie continued her declamation, even though most of the women were hooded under hair dryers and obviously deaf to any conversation. "Yeah, it sure is great to see how happy he is, now that she's back. He'll probably never let her go away again. Yeah, if ever there were a couple made for each other..." Margaret looked askance at her friend's strange behavior, and from the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of the catalyst.

The smell of the perm solution that permeated the shop was seeping into Margaret's skin and suddenly made her want to retch. She tipped forward but Marjorie caught her, steadied her, and she regained her balance. And my dignity, Margaret hoped. She pulled herself into military posture and marched confidently to the styling chair Sallie Mae guided her to. This was her man, Margaret suddenly realized, and a Houlihan never surrendered an inch of ground, once won. Adrenaline, lust, animal instinct, something was kicking into her veins that brought to life her determination to fight to preserve her life, their life together.

And Marjorie was her ally, she accepted gratefully.

xxxxxxxx

Despite the emotional reunion and public reconciliation, their immediate relationship took two steps backward. They were exceedingly polite, coolly civil, and physically awkward. While Hawkeye recognized it would take some time and patience to re-establish his trust with her, Margaret was so wrapped up in her fear of betrayal, she did not understand that Hawkeye felt very vulnerable, too. He gauged everything he said, everything he did or did not do, afraid that with one wrong or misinterpreted move, he would find himself alone again, instantly and perhaps forever.

Hawkeye paced the bedroom in agitation, finally confronting the issue.

Tears stung Margaret's eyes. "What do you want from me?"

"What do you suppose I want from my wife?" He punched his pillow. "I want the chance to express to you how much I love you, dammitt. To show you I adore you, I am sorry, I desire you- "

"I, I, I- it's still always about you, and your needs, isn't it?...what about how I feel? Did it never occur to you that every time you reach for me I think about you reaching past me, to Her?"

"Now, that's crazy."

"Not so very."

"And it is the 1950's, darling, you don't have to undress in the closet with the lights off. I know you, Margaret, I know every blessed inch of you--screeching for a towel the other day when I caught you in the shower? What was that all about? And for someone who was supposedly pining after her husband, you managed to pack on some pounds, Baby."

She grabbed protectively for her belly, and shot him daggers with her eyes. " If I have gained any weight, it's your fault!"

"And how do you figure that?"

"Because I'm pregnant!" She screamed, then folded up into herself. It had not been the way she wanted to share the news. Her shoulders shook and the sobs followed. "I'm pregnant." She had expected the announcement to act like cold water thrown on him, anticipated his swift apology and joyful kisses. But none of that happened. In fact, not only had he not rushed to her side, he sat perfectly still for some moments. For so long, in fact, she had to sniffle and remove the hands from her face to make sure he was still in the same room with her. Even his spirit seemed sucked out. "Hawkeye?" She called hesitantly.

"Is that why you're back ?" he asked coldly. "Because it's certainly not for me. For God's sakes, I've walked on eggshells, for days, trying not to upset you, trying to be patient and hopeful and not make the wrong joke or the wrong gesture-" his rant picked up steam from his frustration," to be perfect, to damn near walk on water for the privilege of holding you again, trying to pack enough passion into our anemic little pecks on the cheek to signal that I find you attractive, only you. To let you know that I am determined to make you happy again. But obviously, I can't !"

"Ben-" she reached out to him weakly.

"Don't 'Ben' me! So, you're pregnant. So you come home. Your finely honed sense of morality won't let you bring up a child alone, eh? Lady, you sure have a hell of a sense of timing. First Lindy, now-"

He could not have wounded her more deeply. "Lindy?" she gasped. "What has she got to do with this? You told me-"

"I told you a lot of things. I told you I love you, but that does not seem to have made much of an impression-'

"Not on either of us!" she slashed back cruelly.

" See? This is the fight that we should have had two weeks ago! But you just took it, like a whipped puppy. Ran away like the last eight years was nothing!"

"Two weeks ago I was your whipped puppy! Now I'm fighting for my family--Our family-our babies!"

"Sez you."

"That's..monstrous.." she shuddered and stared into his dead black eyes "Of course they're yours. Lindy and--"

"Don't bring Lindy into this. Just because you could never be Daddy's little girl, you're jealous of our relationship."

"I left her with you last time, but I won't make that mistake again."

"Do you want this marriage?" he asked harshly.

Margaret summoned up all the passion within her. "Yes!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, until she was hoarse and breathless. "Yes..." she confirmed raggedly. "You miserable creep. Don't you know...?" she implored him. "Don't you understand, it doesn't matter if I am under your roof or under the wide empty sky, whether I am in your bed or in your dreams, I can't shake you. I tried after the war. I tried after Her. I can not shake you. I don't even want to try," her voice reduced to a whisper. "I have my profession. I have my pride. I can survive without you. But God help me, I don't want to..." Suddenly she stood up on the bed and walked to the edge. In one fluid, graceful moment, she turned her back to him, spread out her arms, closed her eyes and arched backwards, falling.

Hawkeye's heart stopped and he dove and grabbed at his wife's body as it sailed off their bed and toward the carpet, wrapping his arms around her, her weight smacking him in the chest and stomach, crushing out his air, landing him on the back on the floor with an "ooff." His whole back stung from the impact .Margaret lay on top of him, squirming to turn over and face him, her face shiny and wet with tears, laughing and crying at once.

"You caught me!" she exclaimed over and over "You caught me, Ben, you caught me!" Her words jumbled in the thrilling realization.

He was panting and wheezing out his reply. "Of course I caught you...you crazy woman... I-Margaret!" And suddenly the true meaning of the exercise hit him like a hammer. "Margaret...you trusted me to catch you..." her willingness to count on him humbled him to the quick. She had risked everything, her safety, her heart, on trusting his response. "You trusted me," he repeated in wonder.

And they were rolling across the floor, gasping and laughing and choking with tears and kissing breathlessly.

"You crazy blonde, what were you thinking with that stunt?"

"I threw myself at you," she giggled. "I thought you liked women falling for you..." she fluttered her eyelashes at him, flirting for the first time in ages.

"Woman. Singular, thank you very much." He was still huffing. "You are under my roof. " he echoed her, "and in my bed and in my dreams...and in my heart," he added. 'Home where you belong." They were still parallel on the hardwood floor. His hands scooped under her shoulders and pulled her to him for a deep wet kiss. "That's more like it."

"MMmmm.." she was nibbling his ear, "You know, we really need to invest in some home renovations..."

"Nursery?" He suddenly remembered the catalyst to their confrontation.

"I was thinking more like soundproofing our room...you know, for when we get...enthusiastic..."

"You are a wicked, wicked woman, Margaret Houlihan Pierce. My father told me, don't marry the woman you can live with - marry the woman you can not live without."

"And so?"

"Hey, I always listen to my father."

xxxxxxx

Hawkeye swung in the gate and up the path to his door. He caught Margaret bent over the autumn remains of her garden trying to revive some potted mums, snuck up and ambushed her from behind in a big hug.

"Ack!" she shrieked, and spun around for battle. "I am armed, you know," she warned, brandishing her hand spade in his face.

"Ah, but my heart beats your spade, Queenie," he insisted. "I thought I would take my two favorite girls on a stroll up the street, stop at the candy store , spoil our appetites for supper..."

"I've just lost track of time out here...Lindy should be home by now, if you're back. Your father went to fetch her awhile ago..."

"She probably dragged him over to Nancy's for another dolly tea party. She's become quite the elegant young hostess, you know."

" But Lindy knows she is supposed to come home and check with me first," Margaret frowned. She brushed her hands on her apron and headed inside. "I think I'll buzz Marjorie, ask her to send our wandering child home."

Hawkeye was digging through the bushes to retrieve the Crabapple Cove Chronicle when Margaret emerged from the front door, frowning. "Margie says Nancy's been home awhile now, and Lindy did not walk home with her."

He chuckled. "Well, I guess Grampa detoured her before I could. That man is a wicked influence…"

The phone rang inside. "That's probably her," Margaret was relieved, and headed back to answer. "I'm to old to be scampering…" she mumbled. But moments later, she dashed out of the house with his black bag. "Hawk, that was the school - Daniel's been hurt!"

They jumped into the car and sped down the street without any preliminaries.

"Did they say what happened? How is he? How, hurt?"

"No details, just..."

Hawkeye believed he could have run faster on adrenaline- powered wings of Apprehension, but practically, they may need the car for transportation elsewhere. The school was just two streets away, but the car seemed to bulk them down, its very mechanical steel heft keeping him anchored to the earth.

"Dad!" Hawkeye leapt out and into the schoolyard, surrounded now by a gathering crowd of adults, officials, and the local ambulance service. He knelt beside the old man and flashed into professional mode, grabbing a wrist to take a pulse, checking him for wounds, for bleeding, for bones out of joint. Korea, the thought zapped through his mind, it's always Korea. The nightmare that taught him how to respond like this. "Dad?"

The old man was conscious, but woozy. "Ben?"

"Dad, where do you hurt?"

"My head...she whacked me over the head... Lindy..." he jerked, trying to sit up to quickly, but Hawkeye restrained him.

"Lindy hit you over the head?" Margaret questioned, kneeling on the other side of her husband's father, the dear man who had become a father to her.

'No, no, " he brushed the question aside impatiently. "She took Lindy. That Underwear woman."

"Sir… doctor..." the ambulance attendant tried to get his attention, "we can handle this," as he tried to squeeze the concerned son out of his job.

Daniel was loaded onto a stretcher and Hawkeye ran alongside, holding his hand. "I'm coming with you.."

"No!" the old man shouted forcefully. "Find Lindy. Get Lindy!" The last was too much effort for him, and he drifted off again.

Hawkeye's head whipped around, confused. "Margaret, where's Lindy?"

"I don't know, I don't know!" Panic was rising, and the old man's strange message began to take on nightmare proportions. Her voice rose "Has anyone seen Lindy? Our daughter, Lindy Pierce, first grader?" There were mumblings in the crowd, but not the one clear voice they wanted to hear. "Lindy!" Margaret shouted for her child, holding her breath for an answer. "Lindy?"

"What did Dad say? The Underwear woman took her?" Pierce's heart stopped and the very blood in his veins froze. "Oh, my God, my God..." he whispered a prayer and a curse at once. Suddenly his fears coalesced into meaning. He dared not even let Margaret share his thoughts. She would blame him, and she would be right. His fling, his stupid, unthinking act of an hour, had put his child in jeopardy.

Without a word to Margaret, he gunned the car. She had to whip open the door and fling herself beside him. "Ben..! What..?"

They were flying down the road when it suddenly occurred to him that he had no idea where he was going. He did not know Ursula's address, or really, anything about her personally. She was a forgettable fling. He jammed on the brakes, knocking Margaret into the dashboard, and then into the side door as he cranked the vehicle around a sharp U-turn and headed to the sheriff's office.

Xxxxx

The intensity in Hawkeye's faced warned Margaret to ask no questions, just cling on for dear life and go with the ride. He screeched into the small police lot and tore open the door, wild - eyed. "Jimmy, where's the chief?"

Jim Corrigan took his feet off the desk, splashed down his coffee, and hoped to calm down his childhood friend. "Hawk, what's wrong?"

He had to catch his wind. "Ursula Underwood kidnapped my daughter!"

"That's quite an accusation, Hawkeye. Hey Margaret, nice to see ya home," he gave her a friendly wave acknowledging her presence behind her husband, then addressed the surgeon again. "OK, let me write this up," he hoped his deliberate manner would cause Pierce to calm down, but nothing was helping defuse the tension. "OK, now , Lindy is missing?"

"Yes! Yes, I told you, Ursula Underwood has snatched her, right from the schoolyard. My father went to walk her home after school and Ursula smacked him over the head--that's assault, get that in your report, too--assault on an old man. I don't know where she is - -!" The desperation rang in his voice that sounded hollow to his own ears.

"And you're positive it was Ursula Underwood?"

"My father's a witness, for god's sake. They carted him off to ER. Jim, don't waste my time here- my baby-"

"And why would she..." he paused delicately, "Uh, Margaret, why don't you make some more coffee, pot's kinda low..." She glared at the officer for his strange, inconsequential request, but still did as she was asked, because she had been asked, and because she did not know what else to do. Once she was out of earshot, Corrigan moved in closer to her husband and lowered his voice." Ah, Hawkeye, I 'm sorry but I gotta ask, ...you know, for the record..." It was embarrassing, and Hawkeye realized the gossip had saturated the tiny town; there would be no quaint cover-up of his indiscretion.

"It was nothing, a one-nighter, a quickie, a really stupid thing. I didn't take it seriously, but apparently, I was the only one. Ursula kept calling me, badgering me at the office, at the hospital, finally at home. Margaret of course, took it very seriously, but thank God we're working it out now. So now if I've satisfied your salacious little mind can we please concentrate on my daughter?"

The cop sighed. He and Hawk stretched way back, and he had been in the police force long enough to dismiss a lot of insults hurled in the passion of a moment.

"You say she's called you at home? Margaret know?"

"No! For god's sake, Jim, I'm trying to put my marriage back together."

"What does she say?"

Now his cheeks flamed. Only for Lindy could he endure this humiliation. "Stuff you'd expect. She misses me. We're so good together. When are we going to meet again."

"And what do you say?"

"Sometimes I hang up. Sometimes I yell at her to leave us alone. Sometimes I tell her I am sorry. I tell her it was a mistake, to move on..." he combed his memory.

"You have her address? "

" Somewhere in Harper Township...I think."

"Her phone number?"

"No! I told you, Jim, we're not...that close."

"OK. I'll get the info and send Ralph over to check it out. Meanwhile, I want you to take Margaret home, and I'll wait by your phone with you. Ralph'll call when he's got something..."

"Or she'll call me to gloat." Hawkeye finished grimly.

"Let's go home," he clapped Pierce on the shoulder. "You got stuff at home, sedatives?"

"Yeah, probably, in my bag. But Margaret can't take anything right now, she's--"

"Expecting, yeah. Congratulations. I was thinking, for you."

"Thanks," he muttered an all-purpose reply to both sentiments. "Come on, Sweetheart, we're going to go home and make some worthless coffee there, too."

He put his arm across her shoulders and felt her trembling. His lips brushed her cheek and he whispered, 'It's OK, Maggie-mine, it's all gonna be ok. I promise." He knew he would have to get control over his own emotions if he were going to be strong for her.

If only he did not feel so guilty, so responsible. Was she blaming him? She had not said a word since they landed after the wild ride to the police office. She moved mechanically. He helped her back into the car.

xxxxxxx

They arrived home, and Hawkeye's hands, so famously steady and skillful in a human body, were shaking too hard to insert the key in the front door. Jim Corrigan pulled out a kitchen chair and prepared to wait beside the phone. Margaret pulled her husband into the parlor.

"You need to know," she began firmly, "this is not your fault."

He put his head in his hands. "Dammit, Margaret, the whole damn thing is my fault."

She pulled his hands away and looked into his eyes, unwavering. "Not this," she repeated. " The woman is nuts- after all she is obsessed with you- " she tried to resurrect his famous grin, but failed, and turned serious again.. "This is a terrible, scary thing but it will be over and we will be all right. All of us." She punched each word positively and embraced his body, stiff with tension, until it began to unclench. "Now go help Jim. I'm going to make some more worthless coffee that no one will drink."

"Some good news," Jim called. " I had 'em patch the hospital's call through my radio, soze we could keep your phone line open. Your dad's conscious again, spouting fire and rarin' to get on the trail. That young intern of yours is having a hell of a time, threatening to tie him down."

"That's my Dad," Pierce observed proudly. "Thanks, Jim. That is good news. And thanks for all you are doing...about before..." he did not know how to apologize for being a jerk, although one would think he had had plenty of previous practice.

Corrigan waved it off. "Hell, Hawk, you know we'll all do everything we can. I've contacted the phone central, but it takes time to get that kind of tracing equipment, get it attached, and then we have to keep her on the line for over twenty minutes to get a fix on her location..." he explained reluctantly.

"It won't take that long, Jim," Pierce said quietly. "She wants me to know where she is. She wants to meet, I'm certain of it."

"Sorry Ralph didn't have better news."

"Well, we know where she's not." Hawkeye could smell the coffee aroma, and looked around but did not see his wife anywhere. His investigation took him upstairs, where he found her retching in the bathroom

"Baby...?" he called gently, kneeling beside her and pulled back some stray blonde strands from her face.

"Ugh." she wiped her hand across her mouth. "You said it. Baby. Tension. Coffee. All the triggers..."

He wet a washcloth and patted her face. " Corrigan says congratulations."

"Thanks."

"Say, does everybody in town know about this baby but me?"

"I think Peabody's new nurse is a tattle-tale."

"Of course - Peabody...that's what he was talking about..." he recalled the unusual conversation he had shared weeks ago with George Peabody, OB/GYN.

"I was planning to mention it," she continued, "but- well, things got...complicated. Distracted."

"That day?"

She nodded miserably.

"Wow. No wonder you were so eager when I suggested I come home for lunch. Guess you're not the only person in this family with lousy timing, huh?"

She shook her head, had a pale ghost of a smile.

"And you left, knowing...?"

Margaret hung her head. She really did not want to discuss this. Not now. Maybe not ever. He re-settled on the floor, folding his long legs Indian- style beneath him, and held on to her quietly.

Downstairs, the phone rang like an electric shock. Hawkeye leapt to his feet and snatched up the receiver in two rings.

Xxxxxxxx

"Hi, Dreamy Doctor. I know you don't want to talk to me, but I believe there is someone here who would like to talk to you..."

"Put Lindy on," he said tersely.

"Not even a hello? Doctor, your conversational manners are not nearly as smooth as your bedside manners," she laughed low in her throat.

"Hello. Now, please let me speak to my daughter." After a long, sexy sigh into the receiver, the voice changed to Lindy's.

"Hi Daddy. Hey, Ursula's having a tea party with me, and you're invited."

Hawkeye thought his heart would crack. "Hey, Princess, sounds like fun, I will be right over. Can you tell me where you are?"

"I dunno, but Ursula can give you directions. She really wants you to come. Not Mommy, though. Daddy, Ursula says I belong to Mommy but not to you. Can you come straighten her out?"

"I am on my way, Lindy, as soon as I know where you are. Are you all right, Hon?"

"I'm hungry, Daddy. We are waiting on you to start the party. Hurry up, ok?" Hawkeye could finally hear some strain in his daughter's voice. She was not frightened, but she was confused. "Is Grampa all right? His head got hurt. I wanted to stay until a doctor came, but Ursula said we had to get ready for the party and we drove away and left him..." she gulped. That was their little girl, more concerned for her grandfather than frightened for herself.

"Grampa's just fine, Lindy. He misses you. We all do. I am on my way. Please let me talk to Ursula now, and I'll see you soon."

"I do belong to you, don't I, Daddy?"

"Forever and ever."

"Now, say that to me..." Ursula whispered seductively. Hawkeye was glad Margaret remained upstairs. Even though stringing Ursula along was their only hope, it would have to be incredibly painful for Margaret to listen to their exchange.

"Not here," he answered smoothly," not over the phone. Let me come to you..."

"Just as I suspected. A little proper motivation and you change your tune. 'She followed me home from school, can I keep her' ?" she whined. "We're waiting for you, Friendly Physician, Lindy and I. Come to Paradise, Ben. I'm waiting for you" her voice was hypnotic, repulsive like the charm of a snake, yet compelling. "We had a good time, Ben. Come over for a good time. Come to paradise..."

Hawkeye finally made the connection. It had meant nothing to him at the time, but it was the Paradise Motel out old Route 6 in Harper where they had conducted their rendezvous. "It's getting late. Lindy needs her supper, and she has school tomorrow. I'm just going to pick her up and -" he made the whole sick enterprise sound so normal. "Please, Ursula. Let me bring her home. She'll only be in our way- please-"

"Begging. I like that. I've done a lot of that lately. Begging you to stay; begging you to accept my calls, or call me back. Begging you to meet me. It did not do me any good. Why should it work for you?"

"Ursula, it's me you're angry at, and I understand. I left you and that was wrong, so very wrong of me. Let me come over, and we'll talk," he tried to coax her

"Talk?" She sniffed at his offer. .

"Sure, we'll talk and I'll apologize and we'll..take it from there..." he held out the hint of more. "I'll bring some of that wine you liked so much."

" You remembered?" Then she sighed. "It was humiliating when you left, Ben. And I was all alone. But now I have little Lindy for company."

"I can be a lot more interesting company." He waited, held his breath for her next move.

"Come to paradise, Ben. It will be paradise, once you are here. I promise. I am waiting for you. Come to Paradise..."

"Hawkeye!" Margaret called as she bounded down the stairs. "Wait, I'm coming with you."

Damn, the woman had been listening as he sweet- talked the kidnapper. Can't trust her at all….

"No, crazy lady, you are going to wait by the phone like a good little housewife."

"I'm crazy? That nut has my baby! I'm going with you, that's it, end of story."

He grabbed her shoulders. "Please, Margaret, I have got to concentrate, and I can't do that if I'm worried about you."

"You don't have to worry about me- -worry about that woman when I get hold of her…!"

"Margaret," Corrigan interceded, and managed to get her attention away from her husband." Hawk's right. The less bodies involved, the safer it will be, for everyone. I know it's a difficult thing we're asking of you, but you'll do more good waiting here."

She swung back to face Pierce again. "Please." Her voice was lower now, less frantic. She looked to him with tears. "Please..."

"Get in the car." When Margaret badgered, bullied, or battled, he could stand firm. Usually. But Margaret Houlihan Pierce had never begged before. Hawkeye found himself without precedent.

Corrigan was on the radio, arranging for an unmarked car for back up. "Now, you two sit in the back seat. She's expecting you, Hawkeye, so I can take her by surprise and.."

"No, I can't take that chance, Jim. I know She's waiting for me. If I try to scam her--" they all three had the same thought. They had no way to know how the woman would react.

"Hawk, this is a police matter now. I can't allow a civilian-"

"Dammit, this is my daughter, this is my fault, and I am the only one who can make this right."

Margaret shot him a questioning glance. There was something dangerous in her husband's voice, something she had never heard before.

"I'm going up, Jim. You can come, if you like." With that declaration, he shoved beside Margaret in the back seat, slammed the door, and allowed Corrigan to drive his precious Plymouth, the car she would be watching for.

The ride to Harper was silent. The Pierces hands stretched across the seat, and they were holding on so tightly they began to cramp.

Hawkeye and Corrigan coordinated their exit so she would hear only one car door smack shut. Corrigan scrunched down on the far side of the car, assuming she would be observing through the window. He let Pierce proceed past the front office, and followed him up the private steps at the back of the motel

"Ursula..." he knocked lightly, trying to steady his nerves, fully aware his child, and her captor, were behind that flimsy motel door.

She cracked open the door to the length of the chain, to assure herself he was alone. "Bennie-Boy," she cooed, and slid the chain back, pulling him inside. " Welcome to Paradise..."

"Daddy!" Lindy flew into his arms, crashing between their bodies, and she pushed the little girl aside.

He quickly bent down to gather Lindy into his arms, fighting every instinct to backhand the bitch who touched his child. "Hey, Princess, I know you have had a lovely time with Miss Ursula, but it's getting late, you have school tomorrow. Why don't we get you home, and-"

"That's not the plan, 'Daddy'..." Ursula scowled. "It's not polite to stand up two such charming ladies when they have invited you to tea. We are going to have our party," she insisted, "I trust you brought that wine you promised?. and then Lindy can have a nap on the sofa. Or, call a taxi for her, if you like..."

He did not like the implications. "Uh, yeah, maybe that is a better idea. I could call for a taxi to deliver her home, and that would give us more time to - " He was thinking fast. If he could get hold of Corrigan, have him pose as a taxi driver, at least he could get Lindy to safety

"Exactly," she drew her fingers across his face, savoring her victory. "I knew you would come back to share Paradise with me, Ben." she whispered. She opened her robe a few inches and rubbed her body against the length of his. "Mmmm...Let the games begin," she purred into his ear, then turned back to the puzzled child seated at the small round coffee table. "Lindy, I'll pour the tea, and you pass the cookies, " she directed.

"OK, but I'm sitting next to Daddy," she announced boldly.

"Stakes her claim just like a certain bleached blonde we know, doesn't she?" she murmured cattily.

"She's a lot like Mar--"

In a flash she stopped his lips with her fingers. "We're not going to mention that name here, not tonight, not in Paradise," she ordered. "Let's not spoil the mood."

Eager to reestablish his deception, Hawkeye poured her some wine, clicked their plastic motel room cups together, and cursed himself for not having the foresight to lace the bottle with something first. But there had been no time. Then, to keep Lindy appeased, he accepted a stale cookie with a flourish and nibbled the edges, proclaiming, "What a lovely party; such charming hostesses, I can hardly wait to read the write up in the society columns..." the teasing put Lindy at ease, but irritated her.

"How soon can you call that cab?"

"Yeah, sooner the better," he agreed, and wondered how to get the message to Corrigan. He picked up the motel phone, wrapped the long cord around his hand, strode around the room apparently aimlessly, speaking loudly as he stood near the door. "County Cab Service? Yeah, this is Dr. Benjamin Franklin Pierce, I'm in room 201 at the Paradise Motel. I need transportation for a juvenile, how soon can you..Oh, you have a cab in the neighborhood? Fine, fine, yeah as soon as that, eh? Ok, about 10 minutes, just have your driver knock and we'll send your fare right out. Thanks." He clicked the receiver down.

"And while we're waiting, how about a little more wine to fill that elegant mock crystal? Or perhaps you have a slipper I can slurp from?" His heart was tap dancing. Just ten more minutes, Lindy could be safe. Just ten more minutes, the whole nightmare could be over..

She produced the pistol from out of nowhere, while Pierce was fastening the buttons on his daughter's coat. He wanted no wasted time, wanted her ready to meet the cabbie they expected outside the door any minute. "And your scarf," he was trying not to babble as he knelt before Lindy and wrapped her up tenderly against the November chill, feeling guilty and frightened and humbled by his new crushing knowledge, that he could not protect his child from everything evil or unhappy in the world.

Well, maybe not everything, he thought feverishly, but he could manage to do this one thing right, and get her to safety. He had not reckoned ahead as to what he would do after Lindy was safely delivered to Jim Corrigan, the cop posing as a cabbie outside the motel room door. Just leave, he shrugged to himself. Maybe duck a flying vase or a few curse words, but this misadventure was so near the end, he could taste it, the sweet return to normalcy.

And then he felt Lindy's little body stiffen and turned to see what had affected her, and he saw the gun. From his scant military training, he could not identify it by make or model or caliber. From his extensive medical training, he recognized it was capable of doing irreparable harm to the human body. He froze.

"Changed my mind, Bennie-Boy." Ursula shrugged carelessly. "Tea Party 's not over. I hadn't planned to keep the little lady with us, but I see that you are such a devoted Daddy, well, even if she's not technically yours, well, you just wouldn't be happy without her. And I do want you to be happy, in every possible way, so-"

"It's- uh -too late, Ursula. I heard the cab drive up. Let's stick with the plan, huh? We'll send the kid home, then Paradise can be rated Adults Only..."

"I didn't hear- " she turned to check the window, and Hawkeye plowed into her low, and caught her under the knees so that her weight collapsed on top of him. The gun discharged and Lindy yelled as the door broke open.

Corrigan reached for his gun but Margaret was faster. She had stealthily crept up the stairs and was crouched low behind him. When she heard the shot and her daughter's scream, she whipped the police special out of Corrigan's holster and fired into the room, just above Ursula's head. While she clawed at Margaret's husband and squirmed to get away, she had at least dropped her weapon.

"Mommy!" Lindy ran to her mother's arms, to be hugged to pieces. "Mommy, you missed..."

"No, darlin'," Pierce grinned with relief. "Mommy never misses what she aims for. Miss Ursula here was just lucky that Mommy had the good grace not to aim directly at her"

Corrigan hauled the kidnapper to her heels and snapped on the handcuffs. He handed her, scowling and spitting and shrieking, to one of the back up officers, and ran a quick observation over the scene.

Margaret and Lindy had made it across the room to include Hawkeye in their reunion hug, the little family clinging to each other and all murmuring the reassuring little joyful, wordless syllables of relief.

When they broke apart to head for the door, Corrigan saw the blood.

xxxxxxxxxx

Stubborn as medical professionals can be about their own well-being, for Lindy's sake they agreed to have Corrigan detour to the ER to be checked out. It caused no end of commotion to have the staff surrounding one of their own, accompanied by blood and a police officer. Pierce, now grimacing as his adrenaline high wore off, and Margaret holding her bloody scarf against his thigh, and Lindy, staring in wonder and puzzlement at the entire scene. "Just a little family disagreement, Folks..., eh Officer?" He stared down Corrigan for confirmation. And an orderly hissed into the gathering crowd,"Yeah, I heard those two can really mix it up..."

Overhearing that remark, Margaret slugged Hawkeye in his undamaged shoulder.

" Knock it off, will you? They're going to think we fight!"

He winced, and shrugged. "They'd be right.."

"But they don't all have to know that, do they? And the way stories fly in these little burgs..." she rolled her eyes, imagining being the center of gossip, again.

"Good shot, Margaret," he murmured, feeling a little lightheaded as the local anesthetic kicked in, warming him. "And you out of practice..."

"Not so good," she sniffed, trying to joke for him "I was aiming at you."

"Figures. I make it through the front lines of a war and get plugged by a jealous woman in a motel room," he yawned." That'll make a nice post-script to the family Christmas letter this year… Go, take Lindy home, check on Dad. I think I am about to take a nap here..."

Epilogue

"Yeah, imagine, Margie, just awhile ago I was actually considering going back to work for a couple shifts a week. With my two spoiled invalids here, I have more than enough to keep me in the practical practice of medicine."

Margaret held the telephone between her ear and her shoulder, head cocked to an angle, as she pulled the loaf pans out of the oven. "Banana Raisin. They'll be ready for the bake sale." She listened intently. "Oh, Daniel's milking this for everything it's worth," she reported fondly. " It's basically a headache, but it's true, doctors make the worst patients. And Hawkeye is just limping around, hogging the television. With the least encouragement he'll explain the entire plotline of "As the World Turns," and then tell you it's so far fetched, because such goings-on simply don't happen to real people," she sighed. "See ya later."

She signed off with her friend just in time to slap gently on her husband's hand as he reached for the fancy bread loaves. "They have to cool," she scolded. "And, these are for the bake sale. When are you going back to work, anyway?" She chided him, amused.

"When are you?" he challenged.

"Oh, in about another five or six years, I suppose. Whenever Tiny Tuttle here goes to school. I think I'll be pretty busy at home for while."

"I guess I 'd better get in line now if I want some cuddling on the couch ,hmm...?" He nuzzled her neck and made her giggle.

"I do not cuddle patients," she replied starchly. "Only doctors."

"Well, how fortunate for me- and for you- that I happen to be a doctor, and a patient."

"Pierce, you have never been patient in your whole life," she smiled knowingly and curled up beside him on the sofa with a full plate.

"And how come you get milk and banana bread?"

"Milk, because it is good for me, and the baby's bones," she explained. "Banana bread, because the baby craves raisins for iron, and bananas for potassium. All very scientific and nutritious."

"Uh huh. Your pomposity needs some work…"

"And what do you crave?"

xxxxxxxxxx

Hawkeye's Favorite Banana Bread

1-1/2 cup flour, ½ tsp baking soda

1 cup sugar ,1 tsp cinnamon

Mix dry ingredients together.

1 egg, ¾ cup melted butter

1 tsp vanilla, 1-1/2 cup raisins

2 crushed overripe bananas

Combine wet ingredients together, and mix well with dry mixture.

Bake at 350 degrees for 1 hour in a well-greased loaf pan.


End file.
